Birth of Silverlock
by Touchnotthiscat
Summary: Set in the Marvelverse, this is the first person story of Larson Sterling, aka Silverlock, a mutant healer.  Daughter of a SHILED agent, Larson shuns the organization, prefering to be her own woman.  Bloodscream and Roughhouse have other plans in mind.


Bloodscream, Roughhouse and the Marvelverse in general are not mine and are used with the utmost respect. The character Larson/Silverlock is mine, however, and isn't always treated so respectfully. The setting is in the general Marvelverse and not set at any specific point (Civil War, etc…)

**Birth of Silverlock**

I fought the urge to look over my shoulder, but Lord it was hard. Someone was following me – had been following me for days now, I was sure of it. Those smart little hairs on the back of my neck were practically screaming for me to run. So I didn't. No way was I going to tip off whoever was following me that I was onto them. Keeping my pace steady, I cut down through an alley way to the next street, listening for sounds of pursuit. I didn't hear anything, but I could almost feel their presence behind me. Damn, whoever was tracking me was good.

My name is Larson Sterling. Yes, I know 'Larson' is a guy's name, and yes, I have noticed that I'm unequivocally a woman. Blame it on my dad. His version is that he and mom wanted my sex to be a surprise, so they put a bunch of names in a hat. The night I was born they each pulled a name from the hat and 'Larson' ended up being the better name. He said I was lucky – the other choice was Pricilla. I should count my blessings that they hadn't drawn "Oscar."

I crossed a side street and made my way back to the business district. The bank had mirrored windows, so I take my time walking past them hoping to catch sight of the ghost who was following me. Nothing. I wish I knew what they wanted. Could be that I look like an easy mark – at 5'3, I was short and thin. Maybe I look like I wouldn't put up a fight if I were mugged. I'd like to see them try it; they'd be in for a nasty surprise. Dad is a SHIELD agent, and he taught me just about everything he knows about self-defense. I'd like to think that I was a good student.

And if that didn't work, well, I had another ace up my sleeve. You see, I'm also a mutant. Not one of those hate-everyone-gonna-destroy-the-world kind of mutant. I'm a live-and-let-live-but-don't-think-you-can-step-all-over-me-because-I'll-make-you-wish-you-were-never-born kind. I'm a healer, meaning (if you wanted to get technical about it) I can influence an organic body to heal itself by manipulating the biological structure on a molecular level. It's more complicated than it sounds, but that's the basic theory of it. But don't think that I'm some Mother Teresa with a gentle touch and tender heart because I can also use that power to hurt someone. Not that I _want_ to do that, but I'm not about to cry when my attacker has an unexplained leg-break or seizure. I can also do some other amazing things like detecting and neutralize poisons and impurities in the air and liquids, but I don't advertise that either. A walking, talking air freshener, that's me.

And none of this wool-gathering is getting me anywhere. I've got to lose my tail – this is really beginning to freak me out. I dash across the street, dodging a crazy taxi and into an office building. Walking as if I had business there, I cut across the lobby, go down a hallway past the bathrooms and out a side door. It opened into the employee's parking garage. Perfect. Plenty of places to escape. I walked briskly into the garage, acting for all the world as if I knew what I was doing. I didn't feel those eyes anymore. Did I finally manage to lose them? I walked past the gate onto a busy street and flagged down a taxi. As we speed off, I finally take a chance and look behind me. Nothing.

I had the taxi drop me off about a block away from a tall apartment complex. Not my own apartment – I wasn't about to go back home until I was sure I wasn't being followed anymore. This was one of the SHIELD safe-houses agents use when they were in the city. I rode the elevator to the penthouse floor, breathing a sigh of relief. Empty lobby, empty elevator and empty halls. Looks like I finally managed to shake my tail. I'll just hole up here for a couple days, wait for whoever is interested in me to give up, and then maybe do a little digging of my own.

I don't like being used, and being a healer means a lot of people want to use you. It's not that I don't want to use my powers to help people, but dammit, I'm going to do it on my terms. I refuse to be somebody's paid nursemaid, catering to their every sniffle. And there are a lot of people out there who would like nothing better than to lock me up for their own personal use. Along the same lines, I don't want the public to know about my powers either. I may be powerful, but I can't possibly heal everyone of every sickness. Healing is a terrible strain on me, so how can I pick and choose who deserves to get healed and who doesn't? It's an unfair position to be in, so I generally try to avoid it altogether. That goes for SHIELD too, I think to myself as I find the hidden geneti-lock. I pressed my finger against the sensor, letting it read my DNA. I know that once my powers came to light, they were eagerly rubbing their hands together just waiting for me to mature enough to recruit. The look on their faces when I told them exactly where to shove it was priceless.

The door clicked open and I slip inside, breathing a sigh of relief. I'm not with SHIELD, but I still get some of the perks thanks to dad (and to General Fury, who I'm sure hopes to woo me into accepting the open offer of employment.) I locked the door and leaned against a wall. Home sweet home, at least for a while. I stood there listening for any noise that was out of place, but every thing was quiet. It was a long while before I finally stepped into the living room.

I started to call my dad – if this was some sort of SHIELD exercise, he would know about it. And if it wasn't, then I might need their help. I hesitated. I hated playing the 'daddy' card, and besides, if this _wasn't_ some sort of SHIELD game, then I could be putting dad in danger. I put the phone back into my purse and decided to take a shower instead. I'd built up a sweat trying to dodge my stalker. The hot water would help clear my mind.

It was hard to relax. I was convinced that only Spider-man would've been able to track me, and _him_ I would've seen. I let the hot water sooth the tension out of me. By the time I stepped out of the shower I was more relaxed and thinking clearly. I would call dad and see if he knew anything. Maybe he could send a black ops team out to check things out. I knew I wasn't imagining the tail, so I had to find out who was behind it, and for this I needed dad's help.

I padded to the bedroom and got dressed. Usually these safe houses came with clothes, but none of it was for women, so I put on a men's shirt. I wasn't planning on leaving for the rest of the night, and the apartment had its own laundry room so I wasn't concerned.

Feeling refreshed, I went to the kitchen. I hadn't eaten all day, so my stomach felt like it was chewing on my spine. Hopefully there was something more than frozen pizza and burritos in the fridge. I checked the cabinets. "What's this? Canned corn, peas. Pork and beans. Ramen noodles." I pulled a face. "Ugh! Spam? Who eats this stuff?" I stood on tiptoe and reached further back into the cabinet. "Ha! There we go! Beef stew. Perfect."

A gloved hand clamped down hard on my mouth and a voice hissed in my ear. "Thy company was not expected." My scream was stuck in my throat as I tossed off my feet. "In truth, hadst I known thou wouldst choose to go to ground here, we wouldst have prepared thee a fine meal."

I kicked out, trying to fight my way out of the intruder's grasp. This definitely was NOT SHIELD! How the hell had they gotten into the apartment?! I let my weight drop, hoping to slip from his clutches, but he held on with a vice-like grip.

"Thy struggles are in vain, Lady," he whispered into my other ear. "But entertaining nonetheless."

I tried not to panic and reached back, clawing at anything I could get hold of. I touched skin; I threw myself into him, mentally reaching out with my powers. I entangled my other self around his nervous system and _pulled_. Hard. He screamed in pain, letting me go. Not waiting for him to recover, I ran. I didn't even see the giant meaty fist reach out from the other side of the doorway before clubbing my upside the head. My last thought as darkness overtook me was: Oh yeah, he'd said 'we.'

Roughouse stepped out from the other side of the doorway and gazed down appreciatively at the woman. "Hey Bloody, you didn't tell me the chick you're after's such a pretty little thing."

"I did not hunt her down for thy sport, Roughouse. Control thyself." Bloodscream emerged from the kitchen, rubbing his head and scowling. He hadn't expected the woman's touch to be so indescribably painful – it was as if his skin had been on fire. He'd known that she was a healer, but this was new to him. He wondered at the extent of her powers. They would have to use caution until they explained her new position to her.

"You never let me have any fun," Roughouse grumbled as he leaned against the wall, a fine network of cracks spidering out from his weight. "She sure clocked you one, eh? You gonna draw her blood?" Not that he cared either way, but Bloodscream's touch tended to age people horribly when it didn't outright kill them, and this chick they were recruiting was sure nice to look at. If she was going to be living with them, he'd rather look at her face as it was rather than some ancient-looking hag's face.

Bloodscream shook his head, scowling. "Not yet. We shalt first see how agreeable she is to our offer." He moved into the living room and pulled a blanket off the couch and tossed it to Roughouse. "Wrap her in this. 'Twould be best if thou not ouch her skin."

Roughouse did as Bloody had asked and hefted the girl up and draped her over his shoulder. "That bad, huh? I think I'm gonna like this chick." He patted the blanket appreciatively.

"Tis best to use caution, my friend. Now let us depart before we art discovered."

It was much later when I finally began to swim out of the darkness. "Huunn…" I groaned as I became aware of an awful pounding in my head. God, it felt like I'd been in a train wreck. Everything hurt.

"Hey Bloody! Princess is wakin' up!"

I winced as the booming voice sent painful spears through my head. "Ugh, could you not do that," I managed to croak through the pain. "I've got a splitting headache." I sat up carefully and cradled my head in my hands. I feel like I was going to throw up. I kept my eyes firmly shut and tried to take deep breaths.

"Hey, sorry babe. Didn't mean to hit you so hard." I snuck a peak at the voice and saw a huge bear of a man lounging in an oversized chair that had seen better days. He studied his fist before looking up at me with a smirk. "Nine, I think." he said cryptically.

"What?" I took another steadying breath as the pounding in my head subsided a little. Great, I thought. I've been kidnapped. What a lousy end to a lousy day. "How about this," I bit back angrily. "Call me 'babe' again and I'll gut you."

His beard bristled as he broke into a wide grin, not the least bit intimidated, I noticed in annoyance. "Sassy," he laughed. "Make that a ten." I blinked stupidly. Was he…ranking me?

I didn't get a chance to answer as another man entered the room. 'Man'…that was a loose description. He was tall, gaunt and incredibly pale. His hair was as silver as mine, but his thin chiseled face was much, much older. He wore shades so dark that I couldn't see his eyes, and he was dressed in black leather. It should've looked ridiculous, like those teens that wore the leather dusters, but on him was sinister. I felt a knot of fear grow in my stomach. This man was dangerous. Deadly dangerous.

"I am glad thou hast woken at last, Larson Sterling. My friend Roughouse does not know his own strength at times, and hit thee harder than he intended to." He stepped closer, and I couldn't help but shrink away from him. There was a palpable air of ancient evil about him, and it was all I could do to keep from shaking. Good Lord, what have I gotten myself into?

"I am known as Bloodscream," he continued as he studied my face. "Thou hast heard of me?"

I looked between him and the one named Roughouse….with names like those, they had to be mutants. I looked back at Bloodscream, who seemed to be watching me intently. I rubbed my temple, trying to play it cool. I had no idea what they wanted from me, but I wasn't dead yet, and I wanted to keep it that way. I wracked my brain, but couldn't ever remember hearing about a Bloodscream. "No," I answered cautiously, watching him for a reaction. "Can't say that I have." He nodded, but I couldn't tell if he was surprised or disappointed. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "I don't suppose that creeps like you would have any aspirin, would you?" I shot a glare towards Roughouse. "I think you cracked my skull." Keep it calm, act like this is nothing unusual. A day in the life of Larson Sterling. I get kidnapped every other Wednesday. No big deal. Don't let them know that I'm scared witless.

Roughouse barked a laugh and reached into a pocket. "Believe me, sweetheart if I cracked your skull you wouldn't still be breathing." He tossed a small white bottle to me. "Thought you might need those."

I made face, and winced as a new pain shot through my skull. "My knight in shining armor," I muttered sarcastically. "And my name is Larson, not 'sweetheart,' not 'babe.' Got it?" He laughed. At least someone was enjoying this, I thought sourly. I swallowed a handful of pills before my powers neutralized the aspirin and peered up at Bloodscream. "Okay. Bloodscream. Who are you, and how do you know me?" I was amazed at how calm I sounded, even though I felt like jello inside.

Bloodscream leaned casually against and end table and cocked his head. "Our paths crossed a year ago, Lady. Dost thou remember the underground prison located at the abandoned missile silo?"

I did remember now. Somewhere in the mid-West – I wasn't allowed to know where since I wasn't a real SHIELD agent. It was a prison for the more dangerous super-villains. Someone from the Black Apostles, whoever they were. I was told he'd tried to take his own life…there are quicker ways to die than a self-inflicted stab wound to the stomach, but I'd healed him just fine. I never even spoke to the man. The medical team had kept him unconscious. I was in and out of there in a matter of hours. I don't remember seeing Bloodscream there.

"I see from thine eyes that thee remembers that chamber of horrors." He pushed away from the table and approached me. I couldn't help but shrink away from him. He radiated menace.

"I-I remember the prison, but I don't remember you."

He smiled without humor. "Of course not. Thy guardians were most careful to keep thee away from our sight." Yes, I thought. They had barriers over the cells. I couldn't see anyone, and no one would be able to see me. But then how…?

"I smelled thee," Bloodscream answered softly as he leaned forward. I felt frozen in place as he put his hands on either side of my head, pinning me in place. I was trembling now, but tried desperately to reign in my jabbering thoughts. His face was inches from mine. He breathed in deeply, smiling idly to himself. Oh God, he was going to kill me, wasn't he? Would they ever find my body?

"As I smell thee now," he continued, oblivious to my deepening panic. "Clean, fresh. Euphoric." He reached out to stroke a lock of my hair. I couldn't breathe. I was going to die, but dammit, I wasn't going to go down easy. I silently dared him to touch me. Touch me and know the meaning of pain, you bastard. I sounded bolder than I really felt.

"Thou wert a difficult woman to locate, Lady, but at last we hath tracked thee down." He released my hair and stared intently down at me. I was grateful for the sunglasses…I don't think I could've endured his bare gaze. "I sensed thy presence when thou crossed my cell. I felt a tremble in the air and knew that thou hast the key to unlock my magical prison."

I stared at him blankly, not understanding. Magical prison? It was Roughouse who finally broke the spell. "Look, princess, what he's trying to say is that he has a magical curse on him that keeps him immortal and he thinks that you have to power to break it."

Bloodscream stood suddenly and stepped away. I gasped at the reprieve and shook my head, confused. "You've got the wrong person," I tried to explain. My voice was shaking as much as the rest of me was. "I'm a mutant, not a magician…a-a healer. I don't know how to break spells." I swallowed hard. "M-maybe Dr. Strange…?" I glanced nervously towards Bloodscream, who was back to lounging against the end table. His arms were crossed nonchalantly across his chest.

Roughouse grunted. "Yeah, I think he's crazy too. Me, I'd be happy with immortality, but either way you're staying with us until you find a way to break whatever mojo is on Bloody."

I stared at him in disbelief. "What? Are you crazy too? I'm not staying here!" My anger started to dispel the fear. I turned my glare onto Bloodscream. "Look buster, I don't know how to help you, but believe me, if I knew how to kill I would be happy to do it!" I stood on shaky legs and scowled at them both. "So unless you plan on tying me and throwing me in a basement somewhere, I'm going home!"

I wasn't sure what I expected from them, but Bloodscream's humorless smile and Roughouse's bellowing laugh would've been at the bottom of my list. "Oh, I think we can find a way to persuade you stay, sweetheart." Roughouse answered. "How much do you love your father, babe? How far would you go to keep him safe?"

I sank back to the couch, feeling like I'd just been punched. "Wh-what?"

"Thy father, mistress Sterling," Bloodscream replied calmly as Roughouse left the room. "Thou wilt remain with us, or thy father wilt come to a tragic and most painful end." He stood straight, unfolding his arms. "Thou hast ne'er seen the results of my touch, but let me assure you that it is not a pleasant one." He turned to face Roughouse, who had returned carrying something in his arms. He dropped the withered bundle at my feet. My heart skipped painfully when I saw that it was a body – or what was left of one. It was mummified, the shriveled face a mask of abject horror. I choked out a cry as my legs folded out from underneath me. "Oh God…" I reached out and touched it, only vaguely recognizing that the lifeless body wore the uniform of a doorman. It wasn't my dad. I felt like I would drown in the relief, even though I felt a surge of guilt. Someone was dead, but it wasn't my dad. I looked up at Roughouse, repulsed and horrified. "Oh my God, what did you do?"

Bloodscream's face was an expressionless mask. "What will be done to thy father if thou chooses not to remain with us."

I looked from one to the other, then back down at the mummified body. The man's face was twisted into a silent scream. I began to shake again, unable to stand. Hot tears were streaming down my face. "Oh God. I don't have a choice, do I?"

Roughouse shrugged. "Not really. Welcome to the club, Silverlock."


End file.
